Page 88 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

His lips touch mine. Softly. So softly that for one suspended second, neither of us moves. The kiss we’ve almost had. The one we’ve both been pretending not to think about. Here. Finally.

He draws back barely an inch. His eyes open. So do mine. I can feel his breath against my lips.

I tighten my fingers in his shirt and close the tiny distance myself.

This time there is no hesitation. His hand moves more firmly around my waist, drawing me closer as his mouth finds mine again. The kiss deepens, slow and warm and unhurried. My hand slides higher against his chest, and beneath my palm I feel the steady beat of his heart.

Except it isn’t steady. Neither is mine.

Everything else disappears. The farm, New York, tomorrow. There is only the warmth of his mouth, his hand at my waist, and the astonishing gentleness of this careful, guarded man.

When we finally part, neither of us goes far. His forehead settles against mine. My eyes close. For a few seconds, we simply breathe.

A smile finds me before I can stop it.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he says quietly.

I open my eyes. “How long?”

His thumb brushes my cheek. “Long enough.”

My smile grows. “That’s very specific.”

“Don’t ruin it, Hart.”

A quiet laugh slips out of me. There he is. But his forehead stays against mine and his hand stays at my waist, and I don’t let go of his shirt.

Eventually I whisper, “I really do have to go.”

“I know.” Neither of us moves.

I smile. “This is not going particularly well.”

“No.”

Another moment passes. Then he lifts his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I don’t come tomorrow.”

His expression changes. “Thursday.” He considers that for about half a second, which tells me something.

“Thursday. Right.”

Then, “I’m getting coffee for the crew tomorrow morning at Betty’s.”

“Oh. Convenient.” I smile. “I may also require coffee.”

His mouth curves. “Eight?”

I nod. “Eight.”

He kisses me again. Just once. A soft, lingering kiss that somehow feels even more intimate because this time neither of us has to wonder whether it will happen.

When he steps back, I finally turn toward the car.

I’m almost to the door when I stop and call back to him.

“Javier.”